


Downtown

by how_about_no



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, M/M, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, ish, like it takes place after the movie, they're 16/17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 05:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/how_about_no/pseuds/how_about_no
Summary: “Eds, baby, don’t you have anything nice to say to me?”“Well, you know what they say, Richie.” Eddie leaned back against the couch, between Bill’s legs and beside Stan. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”“Your words scorch me.” Richie held the hand with the cigarette over his heart, his face the perfect picture of hurt. His voice tilted into a high British accent, “I do nawt know what I shall do, sir! Without your guiding light I am simply lawst!”*It's three years after the summer of '89, and everyone has changed. Two things haven't: Eddie is still hopelessly in love with his best friend, and Richie is still a huge fucking Trashmouth.





	Downtown

**Author's Note:**

> S'UP FUCKERS
> 
> this is my first reddie fic like ever (im just adding to me incomplete repertoire because im a cock that writes too many things) so be gentle my lovelies
> 
> title is from little shop of horrors: just imagine the bit where they're both singing 'i've gotta get OUT of here' bc that's all the losers in this fic
> 
> enjoy this snippet of teen life, and it'll probably continue in the same way, with relationship development and a hell of a lot of softness bc we all need that (especially in this fandom FUCK)

The town of Derry had never been normal. In fact, it was almost the complete opposite. People were blissfully unaware of everything around them. It was like the entire town existed in a societal bubble which excluded them from the rest of the world. Entering the town felt like crossing into the Twilight Zone.

Then there was the whole thing with the fucking demonic clown that came by every 27 or so years to screw everything up for everyone. That was just the icing on the cake of the shitshow that was Derry, in Eddie’s view.

That’s why he was so thankful for his friends.

Everything changed after It. Before, it was just Eddie, Bill, Richie, and Stan. Now Ben and Bev joined them when they hung out in school, and Mike whenever they were outside of it. Their foursome had become a.. a sevensome. Eddie mostly suspected they grouped together because of shared trauma, but everyone took it as a joke when he said it aloud. He knew they all saw truth in it, though.

Bev’s aunt moved into Derry with her young daughter, and the girl herself had brightened since leaving her dad. She smiled more, worried less, and looked over her shoulder for entirely different reasons than fearing her abusive father was waiting for her.

Bill stuttered way less. He also got more frustrated with himself when he did. The closure of knowing what happened to Georgie rebooted his entire grieving process, but now Eddie was glad he had more friends to share the burden with. Bill lost his brother, but they had all fought It.

Ben’s confidence went through the roof. Compared to what it was before, anyway. He didn’t hide away in the library as much and wasn’t afraid of saying what he felt when he felt it. Maybe the near-death experience had given him the gusto to go ahead and tell Beverly how he really felt. Not that she didn’t already likely know.

Stan closed off, at first. He became sullen, monosyllabic. It wasn’t until Mike came across him sat at the edge of a cliff too high to jump off that it really hit them how much everything had affected Stan. It took time, two years to be exact, for him to be close to his old self again.

Mike decided to take the role he had to play at the farm hands on. He did what he had to do and didn’t feel as guilty about it. Eddie wasn’t sure if that was a positive or negative change, but he still hung out with the losers even now. He was a bright light in their sarcastic cess pool.

Richie, unlike the others, didn’t really change all that much. It was probably because who he was around them was a mask anyway, and why would trauma change a mask? Underneath was different. The nights he tapped on Eddie’s window and snuck in, so he could get a night’s sleep without being burdened with nightmares, were the only time he didn’t wear his mask. The Voices were so easy to fall into, Eddie knew, but seeing the real Richie shine through scared him sometimes.

Even if Richie didn’t notice, Eddie was always looking. He watched Richie grin and smack his chest as he laughed. He watched the boy rub his eyes under those huge glasses when he was tired. He watched the freckles on his face appear over summer and disappear in winter. Eddie watched, and Richie remained oblivious. Even now, the scars on their hands white and nearly unnoticeable, Richie’s smile faltered every so often. Old habits die hard. Masks don’t get destroyed so easily.

Now, Eddie? Eddie didn’t know what he was like after It. He wasn’t sure he even knew what he was before. Scared? All the time. Ill? Not even close. He didn’t change after It, he just knew the truth, finally. His mother had lied to him his entire life and it gave him so much new energy that he wanted to use to spite her. He’d go out later, make sure to come back with scuffed knees or mucky elbows. Sometimes his mom would watch him leave like it was the last time, and there was no telling if it would be.

Eddie wanted to leave, leave her lies and her faux sweet concern, but he always came home.

Every time got a little bit harder, and the inhaler that burned a hole in his pocket got a little heavier.

So, they changed, all of them, but they stayed together. Only their little group knew what the nightmares were like, had looked death in the face and told it to go fuck itself.

It was three years later, all the losers were sixteen going on seventeen, and they were still together. Sometimes there’d be a quiet moment, complete silence, when all of them fell back into their memories at the same time. Eddie knew it was something to do with the town, that It wasn’t gone. He didn’t have to think about that for another 24 years, though, so he tried not to dwell.

“What’s up, fuckers!” Richie slammed into Bill’s garage, where their biweekly movie night was in full session, three years after they all stood in a circle with bloody palms. His hair was long, curling around his face and neck like unruly vines. One curl was tucked under his glasses, and Eddie wanted desperately to brush it behind the boy’s ear. Richie held a six pack of beers in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The denim jacket hanging off his lanky frame had stuffed pockets full to the brim with what looked like packs upon packs of cheap candy.

The losers barely acknowledged him, used to his dramatic entrances. Bev flicked her eyes to him and raised an eyebrow.

“What punk did you get to buy you beer this time?” She smirked, tucking her toes further under Ben’s thigh where she was in the corner of the couch, curled in on herself so two other people could fit on what was a two-seater.

“Y-you know you can’t smoke in here, Rich.” Bill wrinkled his nose, “Throw i-it out, or finish it outside.”

“Always such a warm welcome.” Richie fluttered his eyelashes under the huge glasses that he still hadn’t gotten rid of. Eddie tried not to feel too warm inside seeing it but failed completely. He sighed, Richie’s eyes met his, and he lit up with a smile, “Eds, baby, don’t you have anything nice to say to me?”

“Well, you know what they say, Richie.” Eddie leaned back against the couch, between Bill’s legs and beside Stan. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

“Your words scorch me.” Richie held the hand with the cigarette over his heart, his face the perfect picture of hurt. His voice tilted into a high British accent, “I do nawt know what I shall do, sir! Without your guiding light I am simply lawst!”

“You’re stinking up the place.” Stan rolled his eyes, “Get out of here with that thing.”

“That’s not what Eddie’s mom said las-”

“Beep beep, fuckwad!” Eddie threw a stray shoe at Richie who simply laughed and walked out of the garage again, leaving the six pack behind on the side table next to the projector. The film ( _Dead Poet’s Society)_ went on in a pleasantly silent room for five minutes before Richie traipsed back in and shoved himself into the gap between Stan and Eddie. There was room next to Mike on the love seat, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for him. Stan sighed, gave Richie a disdainful look, and took the spot instead.

“This movie sucks.” Richie whispered conspiringly in Eddie’s ear.

“Your face sucks.”

“Your mom sucks-”

“Don’t.”

“-this dick.”

Eddie groaned and shoved Richie’s shoulder, who laughed and settled in a slouch that left their arms touching from shoulder to elbow. It wasn’t new for them, being this close. They’ve shared a bed at least once a week since they were kids, and never hesitated to be tactile. Eddie’s heart clearly hadn’t gotten the memo, because its rapid beating was frankly fucking rude. He tried to hold in a sigh.

There was a light rustle of denim and Richie muttered something under his breath. He eventually succeeded in getting the jacket off his shoulders and shoved it down, so it was a semi-circle around his hips, the left sleeve draped over Eddie’s thigh. Their bare arms brushed, and Eddie’s breath caught in his throat.

Then Richie leaned across him, his baggy grey Metallica shirt dipping so his collar bones were in Eddie’s face. He averted his eyes and tried not to think about the pale stretch of throat and skin and- _fuck._

“You could have just asked me to pass you one.” He said, still looking away, and Richie breathed a laugh that hit Eddie’s cheek. He turned so they were practically nose to nose.

“Nah.” Richie breathed. “I had a specific one I wanted, and you would’ve got it wrong, Eds.”

“Sure.” Eddie rolled his eyes, and they met Richie’s, still barely two inches in front of him. His glasses had slipped slightly on his nose, and Eddie’s finger twitched, wanting to straighten them, “And don’t call me Eds.”

Richie just laughed and went back to his original position. This time, though, he flopped his leg over Eddies and rested his head on his shoulder. Eddie had to close his eyes for a few seconds to calm down.

The bracelets on Richie’s wrist hit the can of beer he was happily nursing. Ben and Bev were whispering about something that sounded deep and intellectual. Bill was gnawing on the skin around his thumbnail. Stan and Mike had started a game of rock paper scissors, for whatever reason. And Eddie was dying. No, _really._

“What’s this?” Richie poked the back of Eddie’s wrist where the scribbled ends of a penned on word were visible. He used two fingers to move Eddie’s arm and tilted his head further, so he could read it. Richie’s hair brushed Eddie’s neck, his curls soft and distracting.

“Uh- it’s a reminder.” Eddie stammered out awkwardly, his skin burning from Richie’s touch. The writing was boring, just a simple ‘library bowow!’ to remind him to go there in the morning before school.

Richie hummed and moved away to take another sip of his beer.

“Why do we have to finish school? This school beats ours and it still seems shit.” Bev thought aloud as the credits rolled half an hour later. She was laid across Ben and Bill’s laps, her feet hanging over the edge of the sofa. Apparently, the corner wasn’t good enough for her, and her boyfriend and almost boyfriend’s laps were.

“Education is a foundation for our lives.” Stan said like he was reading from a book, and Richie scoffed.

“Stan my man,” He started, and Eddie watched as he stood up and put on a serious face. His Voice senses were tingling, “Education teaches us how to be taught, but does it teach us anything about life?” He sounded nothing like Robin Williams, but his teacher voice was pretty on point, “We spend all of our fucking lives taking tests and memorising facts but will any of us use that in life? School teaches us obedience, authority, compliance,” he listed on his fingers, “fucking- I don’t know- how to be good little doormats for the entire fucking world to walk all over us. Unless you want to be like, shit, a doctor or some other crap, school is just a gateway into being a rat running in the wheel of capitalism.”

“Fuck, Richie.” Mike let out a shocked laugh.

“Stick it to the man!” Bev threw a fist in the air.

“Hell yeah!” Bill clapped, then wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye.

Richie ran his fingers through his hair before bowing grandly and throwing Eddie a wink. He couldn’t help but laugh. Here Richie was, red faced and panting from doing an overly dramatic speech, winking at Eddie like this is all some kind of inside joke. Maybe it was. Maybe Eddie didn’t remember. It didn’t matter, really, because Eddie would always laugh at Richie’s dumb jokes, whether he understood them or not. Even if he always said ‘shut the fuck up, Trashmouth’ afterwards.

“Who knew you were a Marxist.” Eddie pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and gazing at Richie.

“If I were anything, I’d be a socialist.” Richie’s eyes glinted, “But they’re all about sharing, and I couldn’t let anyone else have my Eddie Spaghetti!”

He dove down and smacked a sloppy kiss on Eddie’s cheek. He moved away just as quickly, but the lingering warmth of his lips lingered. Flopped back down to his old position, Richie put his arm over Eddie’s shoulders and laughed at something Ben said. Wait- there were other people in the room?

“You’d be a great president, Richie.” Mike said, and Stan scoffed.

“If Richie were president, the entire world would burn.”

Eddie tried to picture it, Richie at the desk in the oval office, looking obnoxious and telling people what to do.

“The power would go to his head immediately.” Eddie said, “He’d make stupid laws, and we all know it.”

“Pizza for breakfast!” Richie declared in an authoritative voice, his arm tightening around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie watched as his friends debated about what Richie would be like as a president, creating all sorts of ridiculous scenarios that all ended in an apocalypse or world war.

Eventually they all wound down, and Richie offered to walk Eddie home since his curfew was soon. Eddie could have protested, because he hadn’t been worried about curfew for years. Richie probably knew that, but neither of them said anything.

“I want to get out of here.” Richie said after a few minutes of walking in silence. He had a cigarette between his lips, his denim jacket emptied of sweets that the losers demanded they leave behind, along with the beers.

“We can’t really get out of outside.” Eddie gestured around them. They turned left, where a right turn would probably be quicker. Right lead to the Neibolt house, though, and neither of them wanted to go back there. Richie sighed and tipped his head back.

“Nah, here. Like, the town, you know? It’s cursed. It makes everyone feel like shit.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, and he was pretty sure he would’ve agreed with anything Richie had said then just because of how adorable he looked in the dim light the streetlights, “me too.”

“We should.”

“Should-?”

“Leave.”

“Yeah.”

“At some point.”

“Yeah.”

Rich huffed a quiet laugh and tapped the tip of Eddie’s nose with his finger.

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

It was cold out, early fall crisping the air and the dark swirling around in cold tendrils. Goosepimples appeared down Eddies arm and he rubbed over them as he led them to the swing set over the road from where they were walking. It was technically in someone else’s yard, but no one had lived there for years and the swing set was treated like public property.

“I am taking it seriously.” He said as Richie sat down on one of the swings, his legs folded up on front of him, “I just- it’s hard.”

“Why?” There was a smile on Richie’s face, but Eddie could see the anxiety there. Though Richie’s mask was barely cracked by It, Eddie had always been able to see through it. At least sometimes.

“Lots of things.” Eddie sat down and pushed off, so he swung slightly back and forth, but not much, “You meant what you said? You really want to leave?”

“Totally.” Richie nodded, his hair moving so it covered the side of his face Eddie could see. “Eventually.”

“When is eventually?”

“As soon as possible.”

Wind blew a piece of paper across Eddie’s feet, and it stuck slightly on Richie’s boot before being taken away again. Eddie watched it go, up, and up, floating like the kids in the sewer. No matter what, memories of It always came lurching at him at random times. He couldn’t escape them.

He looked at the stars to distract himself. Eddie liked to count them when he needed something to occupy him, because you’d never run out of stars to number. He stared at one that winked between red and white. A planet. He wondered if whatever life was on there had demons too.

“As soon as possible.” Eddie repeated, letting the words roll off his tongue and into the air to join everything he’d ever said in the atmosphere. He liked to imagine a collection of words, all the words he’d ever uttered, grouped together somewhere high above them, defining who he was. Hopefully these words would be the biggest, “We’ll go. As soon as possible.”

**Author's Note:**

> eyo my tumblr is kaspcrap
> 
> thanks for reading


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